The Last Gift From Your Loved Ones
by EvelioandZgroup
Summary: Not many people care about her. You would think that when they would try. One doesn't hate her. He cares about her. On Valentine's Day, she is alone. He deicides to take her out. This one night that he knows won't change their friendship, but he knows it will show her how much he loves her.
1. Chapter 1

The Last Gift From Your Loved Ones

By

EvelioandZgroup

Adapted from an original story from the same name

Dedicated to all of those on Valentine's Day

1

I began walking over to her house. It was cold here in Elmore, but I didn't care. This was something that I had to do. I can't think about it some other time; I can't dream about doing this and say I did; I can't put my myself like this. I needed to do this. I don't care what it takes for me to do this; I don't want her to suffer. I made it to her house, where it was unlocked, so there was no need to use her emergency key that she kept under the Welcome Home mat. There I ran up to her room, where she was sleeping. I saw a lot of tissues placed all around. There was enough to fill the whole block's recycling and trash buckets (even the side can for those extra trash you can't fit in your trash bucket).

She saw me and said, "What are you doing here?"

I sat by her bed, on her white blankets (I swear that I couldn't tell that some of the waded-up tissues were on the bed. They camouflaged so well.), telling her that it was time to go. She went back to her pillow and hugged it for comfort.

She said, "Leave me be. I don't want you to get sick, too."

I told her, "You know that's not true."

"Does it matter?" she said. "I just want to stay in bed and—"

"And what?" I interrupt. "You can't stay here, mope about what happened. It's Valentine's Day. And here you are—hanging around like you're nothing."

"I _am_ nothing. There's no point for me to even coexist in this world. I'm nothing, and you know that damn well."

"No," I said. "You are better than that. I'm not going to let Rachel consume your happiness from what it truly deserves. You need to get out of bed and just be."

"I'll die if I go there."

I knew what she meant. I said what came to mind first. "I thought you were a fighter? I thought you said you like the odds against you."

"This is different."

"What is?" I said. "Your happiness or what can kill you? You're going to die; I'm going to die. What about that feeling when you know you'll die, but you say 'fuck it!' and we stare Death in the face, while we enjoy ourselves because we know the outcome of our lives is death. We know that. But what we don't realize is that we take for granted every day when we should live up our lives to what we want. We don't waste our time with things that won't get our dreams; we do it when we know when there is nothing more for us, but it's our time to take advantage of it because time may be against us; there are dreams and thrills that we can accomplish in a snap."

She stared at me, thinking I was crazy. Then, out of nowhere, she started to laugh. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She was laughing. I never heard her laugh since what happened. I don't think anyone did. Her parents, sure hell, didn't.

I began laughing, laughing with her.

After a while, I asked her why she was laughing.

She said, "Because you really are something."

"Well, why don't you get up then?"

"Because you know what will happen if I go outside, remember? I already told you." She reminded about it.

"You know what your problem is?" I said. "You think too much, and you feel too little. That's how you fall flat. You think about the outcomes in different ways, but you should get it through your head that life doesn't give you a hand, but it delivers many opportunities that remained unnoticed. Well, this is it—it's that opportunity. So, come on—spit in the eye of the outcome; don't let it ruin what could be a happy ending to your life."

She sat there, this time with a smile. That smile was real, not fake. You can't fake death, but you sure as hell can feel the pain and joy of it.

"Okay," she said. "I'll go. But if I die, you're responsible."

"I'll take responsibility of giving you a happy ending."

We got up and left.


	2. Chapter 2

2

We went to the park, where the snow covered the area in a big, white blanket. I made sure that she was wearing lots of sweaters when we left so she wouldn't get cold, (even if I did to live the last day like nothing). I know, but that didn't mean I should let her die in a second.

I grabbed her hand when she felt like she was alone, even if I was by her side. I knew very well that she still had some regret for leaving the house. That's my fault, but I wasn't going to let her regret be proven right. I wanted her to be happy. This day was for her. Not anyone else.

She looked at me and said, "You don't have to do that."

I was about to talk, but looked at her and saw her smile.

"You really want me to say that I want to, do you?"

"Let this be like a dream, even if it's from used up lines from third-rate romantic-comedies."

"Well, no, I won't. I want to give you something that's real. I don't want to say that I want to because it's more than that. It's like if you see a black raven in the desert. It stands for more than that."

"I don't think ravens are in the desert."

"Really?" I said. "I'm trying to make a point and you're doing this now?"

She laughed a bit.

We walked further along the sidewalk that wasn't filled by much snow.

Then, out of nowhere, she pushed me in the snow.

I looked at her with confusion.

I laughed a bit, but I was still confused.

"Why did you do that?" I asked.

"So I can be normal," she said. "You don't know how many people in my position hate the behavior of people feeling sorry for them. Well, push me. Push me like there was no sickness, that I wasn't poor, that I didn't have bad grades from some disability. Push me."

I got up and didn't obey.

She noticed and asked why didn't I push her.

I said, "Because I can do this instead."

She screamed, "Wait. What are you doing?"

I grabbed her by her legs and spin her around, where we fell together in the snow. When we were spinning around, I swear that I saw the beauty that I saw when I first met her—full of optimism, full of energy, so full of life. It reminded me why I fell in love with her the first time I saw her.

It was at lunch during sixth grade. I overheard a couple of her friends (or at least I think they were) saying, "Don't do it!" and "You're crazy!" But when I saw her just jumping around her table, dancing to her favorite song, I knew that something was up. There, I saw her being happy, truly happy. It wasn't just because of the song. There I saw her just expressing herself because she can. She would. This was her life, and this was the girl you have to know to understand her. Not for me. I knew it from the second I saw her. I met her when I found out that I had division with her. We talked for a while and knew we were friends from the start.

When we were on the ground, she hit my arm, saying, "That doesn't count!"

"Not many people would even spin you around like that."

"True, but—"

"Well, didn't I treat you like a friend I have no pity on?"

She smiled. "No."

I smiled back and grabbed her hand, pulling her up. She told me to wait, saying she wanted to look at the stars, saying that the stars were watching her. While I thought about it, thinking it was crazy, but I saw her being happy to see them, like talking to an old best friend. I let her stay, knowing that this was her. I knew that this wasn't crazy.

Then, after a while, she pulled my hand to get up. But, since she caught me off guard, I fell down with her.

We laughed for a while, but I started to think about whether she didn't know I would fall, or she knew that I would fall and wanted someone to be with her.

Whatever it was, I still am happy to see her smile.

We got up and left.


	3. Chapter 3

3

We decided to watch a movie at the last minute. We didn't know what it was, but went anyway. We were running like crazy, as if we just got out of some chase scene from an action movie, and we were finally relieved that we escaped them.

On the way, we saw a movie theater. There, on a fluke, we decided to go in. We saw that the line was mostly empty. I guess the couples already made it to their movie. When we made it upfront, we looked at our choices. We saw a couple of romantic-comedies (which we knew were bad), a couple of good movies from December to get a lot of awards, and we saw one or two horror movies. I told her she could pick the movie, and she picked the horror one. I was a bit confused and asked if she was sure. She was. I bought the tickets and we went in.

Looking around the seats, I saw that few people were here. We went to the front row, mainly because (I think) nobody was there. The majority were in the middle. We sat and watched the trailers. Most of them were pretty good; something you don't expect in a crappy horror film.

We sat through two hours of just degraded horny teens getting slashed up; but the ending was something to watch. In the end, we see a blank mirror, all leading to video surveillance about the public audience watching over it. It was something cool, until we see that it's not just a horror film, it's real life when life has since then turned into a world nobody wants to live: you get killed for other's entertainment. It may have been hinted wrong, but the idea of that really got to me; especially when it then reveals that the family watching is also being viewed, hinting they're next. The movie, until the ending, was meh. I think it could have been better if we had Kubrick doing that film.

She curled up to me when we were watching the movie. I asked her if she wanted me to get her some soda and popcorn. She said no, telling me to not leave her…

I said I promised her.

We stayed until the movie was over and left, with her around my shoulder. As a joke, she clapped after the movie was done. I asked her what she was doing.

"Business men would _love _to see a crappy movie loved by a sick girl," she said.

"You're not sick," I said.

"Prove it," she said. "Take it away."


	4. Chapter 4

4

We started to get hungry. I knew that when she refused to eat anything at the movies. I took her to a restaurant. She said no, begged, even. She said, "Don't spend your money on me. It's not worth it."

"Like hell you're not worth it," I said.

We went in, making it look like we were big-shots that won the lottery. I told the man upfront for a table for two. Funny thing was he let us eat here. The restaurant was nearly empty. At first, he said they were closing up. But I told them that I had a good friend, who meant a lot to me, so much that I wanted her to have a good time because something bad had happen and it's killing her. He asked me from what and I told him. Then, after a moment of silence, he led us both to a fancy booth, a _really_ good one. We sat and he said he'll take our orders in a bit, while handing us the menus he had in his arm when we came in.

We looked over them, thinking about what we were going to get. I asked her what she wanted, and she said a double cheeseburger…

"You know that this is a _fancy_ restaurant." I reminded her.

"I thought you were going to treat me like I was nobody special," she said.

"All right then—would you like that double cheeseburger with some veggies or not?" I asked.

"Nah," she said. "I've always hated the fact that burgers had veggies. It felt like I was being slapped across the face with. God gave us meat. Let us devour it like kings!"

"You sound like a trucker now."

"And proud," she said. That made me smile.

The waiter, as I will now call him (or Jim, as it says on his nametag), came to take our orders. We both asked for two double cheeseburgers, which he got a little mad at since he told us that some fast food place was near here. But she said that she didn't want to eat there because it wasn't real food. It was just trash they sprayed on to make it look delicious.

He gave in, and about ten minutes later, our food was here. I gave him a twenty bill tip, saying I was sorry if this wasn't worth it. He took it, but said, "You have to eat, right? I can't help what your stomach chooses." Then he left.

We had our burgers—but we first stacked up our burgers with the fries to make it a tower. We then opened up the burger to stack fries in there, and also the bottom. Then we put the bread on, while sticking our biggest fry in the middle of the bun, making it like our own toothpick on a sandwich.

Before we ate, she asked me, "Why are you doing this?"

"What?" I said, with a fry falling off the burger.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I did it because I started as a kid. Ever since the fast food chain started taking credit, I got so—"

"Not that," she said. "This whole date, trip, or fun activity—whatever you like to call it—that we've been on. Why? Why for me?"

I didn't know what to say. What could I say? I thought about telling her that I did this because I loved her, and I know that we'll never be together, but I wanted to make her happy like we were like a couple…But that wasn't the answer that escaped my mouth. I told her this:

"You know how many people will look past by you, and see you as just another sick person, or maybe a D.O.A. kind of girl. I never liked that. I see so many people act like such asses and think it's funny. Those jackasses think full of themselves, thinking they're tough shit and believe they are good-looking and a womanizer. I'll tell you this—I know a womanizer when I see one. Not one for sex, but one to get to know a girl. It's that freedom to talk to a stranger and feel the rush of such lust—so much that you start to believe that this is love. I heard some girls saying I was cute or had a good butt…I don't know, maybe that was a guy talking or something. But I knew that some girls did like me, but what was pointless was me, chasing after a girl, an amazing girl, one that swings for the same team, only for her to be lied to, deceived, and now in a life that's running out of time. You know what's pathetic? We—us—letting that bitch win when she had something, and gave it to you when you thought it was love. God bless that she's dead, but you don't deserve to suffer like how she wants you to. You deserve to live your life to the fullest. I don't believe this is it. Nor do I think that this is so-so…I think I can do better—_way_ better—to give you one night; a night that people show love, gratitude, respect, in any way possible. You deserve that. I am not good enough for you. But I'll be damn if I let those heartless, ungrateful, self-absorbent _bitches_ think they're better than you, or think they're good enough. You're better than any girl I've ever met. I can't express myself any further on how I can prove that," I said, breathing in and out since it took a while to say all that.

She said, "Why not an 'I love you'?"

I told her, "I don't deserve to say that to someone like you."

She stared into my eyes, almost with eyes. She got up, getting closer to me, and putting her arms around me. She was crying, saying, "I'm not worth it. You should know that by now. I made the single most stupid thing, ever."

"You didn't know," I told her.

"I should have," she said, letting her tears go on my neck, soon being divided from going to my back and chest. I held her close. I told her I will always care about her, but she told me that it wasn't good enough, _she_ wasn't good enough.

I said, "You want to finish your cheeseburger or take it home for later?"

She said for later.

We went to the cashier, left an extra twenty for Jim, paid for the bill and walked out with her.


	5. Chapter 5

5

We went back to her house. She asked me to stay in her house, if I can. I told her sure. We sat at her couch, listening to some songs on the radio, while she cuddled up on my lap. She started to sleep, so I grabbed her and put her to bed (at least not before I cleaned up those tissues up). When I was about to exit the door, she said, "Stay. Please, stay here with me."

I said, "I'm not leaving you."

"I want you sleep here."

"All right, I'll sleep here tonight."

"With me," she said. "Please."

All I could say was "Now?"

"If you're sleepy," she said.

I wasn't, but I didn't want to leave her alone. I took my shoes off and just went beside her where there was an open space. I got under the blankest and closed my eyes.

She turned and whispered, "Do you think we deserve to die?"

_I don't know_, I thought. So I said, "I don't know."

"If you and I gave birth to a kid, and he grows up to be the president, what would you say to him?"

"Tell him not to screw up like the past ones," I said.

She laughed. "Any kind of guidance?" she asked.

"I'd tell him to find someone he loves and never let go."

"Do you love me?" she asked.

"I can't answer," I said. "I shouldn't."

"All jokes aside, be honest with me. I want to know."

"I think by all this time you would know," I said.

"Then you have no problem telling me, no?"

I was stumped. I turned to her and whispered, "But would you love me back?"

She looked into my eyes and I stared into them. I didn't want an answer then and not now, if given the chance. That moment, it was clear what the answer was. And it was sealed with a smile…

I hugged her as she leaned in to hug me. We slept that night, without saying another word.


	6. Chapter 6

6

I woke up to see her in the bright sunlight. I smiled at her, leaning in to wake her up with a "wake-up, sleepyhead." But she didn't move, or even hear me. I leaned in to see if she was awake, but she wasn't. In fact, she wasn't breathing. I started to panic and say her name, louder and louder and louder. She didn't respond to me. I ran out the bedroom and called 911, saying that my friend wasn't breathing and that I needed help. I ran back, jumped on top of her and began to preform CPR. I thought it could help, but I started to let the tears come down my cheeks on to her face. I kept yelling her name, hoping she would breathe, but nothing. I kept doing it until the paramedics came in the house.


	7. Chapter 7

7

She died that morning on February 15. It wasn't like I didn't think she would die out of nowhere. She died at age twenty-seven, after twelve years with AIDS (she had it for two years, but she would say twelve since HIV counted). I knew back in the day that she was with this girl, Rachel. I hate her so much. She gave it to her. She even lied to her by saying she was seventeen, when she was thirty-two. I didn't believe it until I saw her. She killed herself by slitting her veins in the bathtub to escape going to jail. It sucks how she went the coward's way out and left her with a disease that would soon consume her life. I saw her life go through so many days with people just having pity on her. She never had a real relationship, and it was now ruined by her. That's how you know someone is just pure evil: They take away your very being.

That's why I wanted to take her out, give her one night before something bad happened. I often heard her say she wanted to commit suicide. I told her that it was crazy, even when she said that there's no point in staying in this world when she knew she was going to die. She didn't want to prolong her pain, as she would put it.

I attended her funeral. I think I was one of the only ones that didn't forget about her and consider her a lost cause. I saw her parents crying, but not a lot. I held my pain inside, thinking that I killed her. I took her life away when I took her out.

I stood there, watching her coffin as she rested in peace. R.I.P. should stand for Return If Possible. Too bad it's not. I wish it was.

Her parents came up to me and thanked me for coming here. I said it was no problem since she meant a lot to me…

Before I turned to the door to leave, I was given a box in black wrapping paper. They said it was for me. They said that she wanted to give me this when we were twelve, but didn't do it. They don't know why, but insisted that I take it now. I did.

When I got home, I looked at the vintage typewriter I liked having around. Maybe it was nostalgic for me, but I liked to think I was being a professional writer in the past.

I opened the box, where I saw that it was our small little yearbook when we graduated from eighth grade. It's funny to know that she skipped ahead when she was young, very smart. But seeing that little book brought back memories (I figured out that it was the reason she was dancing, since she skipped the fifth grade, but I regret nothing of what I said—pure happiness). I can't say what since they were coming in like a big bang. I looked inside to see that it was empty, almost as if it was a new copy. That was until I got to the last page. It said:

_I think if I had anyone to spend the rest of my life with, as someone who likes girls or not, I think it would have to be you. I think it's very funny how you and I don't say we like each other, but more fun for the fact when I said I needed a friend. You gave me so much that I honestly can't repay you for helping me up when I fell down, when our so-called _friends_ laughed at me for what I am, and how you stood there and protected me. I have to say that when I get older, and if I'm still single, I would want to hang out with you. Go out and watch a movie, like we were a cliché couple. I would like to see us together. If I can't live that way, I don't think that's worthy living. Don't you think?_

THE END


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